


The Lad(y) doth protest too much

by Lestradesexwife



Series: Prompt fills and Random Plot Bunnies. [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Don't panic, Fluff, M/M, The Lady Doth Protest Too Much, drunk!John, longsuffering!mike, nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lestradesexwife/pseuds/Lestradesexwife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John gets drunk, Mike makes sure he gets home okay.</p><p>Also Mike is a gentleman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lad(y) doth protest too much

John Watson was spectacularly drunk. He could not remember at this point if they had been celebrating a rugby victory or mourning a loss. His ears were ringing from the loud, vaguely rhythmic shouting of rugby songs, so he was sure that it was something to do with rugby. He had thrown himself completely into the celebration early on since he was also celebrating the last of his exams. He’d allowed himself absolute liberty tonight, he could feel his brain swimming along slowly. He turned back from the bar, having been informed that he had missed last call somewhere under all singing. 

“MIKE!” Stamford was leaning on a pillar just off the centre of the room. “Mike! I’ve bloody missed last call!”

Mike chuckled “That’s the second time you’ve tried that mate, I think I’d better get you home.” He pushed off the pillar and scooped up John’s coat off the back of his chair. Mike was just a bit shorter than John, and he had a round face. He was the sort of man that escaped notice, quiet and a bit awkward he was also in the top five in all their classes. Not to mention playing a good game of rugby, the opposing team always looked at his frame and his open gentle face and assumed that he would be easy to intimidate; a mistake they generally only made once.

John spluttered. “I’m practically home now. I don’t need a chap… chaperone.”

“And if you break your neck falling down those ‘stairs’ up to your flat how will I ever live with myself?”

John huffed, but Stamford had a solid grip on his jacket, and his jacket had his keys. “Fine, but no funny stuff mister. I’m a proper lady.” He mimed flipping his hair back over his shoulders.

“You wish, Watson. I am way out of your league.” Stamford smiled a slow smooth smile that John had seen him use to pull women from this very same pub, and offered his arm. 

“Git.” John murmured as he took Stamford’s arm in his.

“You love it.” Mike pulled John out into the night.

The street was deserted, only to be expected at half two in the morning. John was very glad that they had been at his local, his flat was close by. He was also glad of Stamford’s solid form holding him up, it had rained while they were in the pub and the pavements were slick with puddles. “How come you aren’t drunk?”

“Mostly because I haven’t been drinking, I think you had enough for both of us.”

“But why haven’t you been drinking?”

“Some of us have work in the morning.” Mike grimaced “Well later today, thankfully much later today.” Mike fished into John’s coat pocket, pulling out his keys as they approached his building. He held the keys up to John. “Which one?”

“The one with the bit of tape on is for the front door, the silver squarish one is for the flat.” John was a bit proud of himself for remembering that. Mike leaned him against the door frame, twisting the keys through his fingers looking for one with a bit of tape. 

“Why do you have so many bloody keys? Never mind, I’ve found it.” Mike unlocked the door and held it open with his foot and one arm, with the other he reached over and pulled John into the building. “Almost there, don’t fall asleep on me now.”

John’s eyes were heavy but he mumbled “Yes Mother Stamford.”

“Oi! Enough sass you, and up the stairs.” Mike considered slapping John on the arse to wake him up, he was a bit concerned about the stairs really. They were sagging, the carpet was worn and frayed and they looked a brisk gust of wind away from collapse. But John seemed to be functioning on auto pilot, pulling himself up the steps one at a time. 

Mike followed behind, clutching the railing and watching where John put his feet. He had just enough time to brace himself and catch John when John missed a step and wobbled backwards. The only thing that saved them was that Mike was leaning forward so that John’s lower portion was braced against Mike’s chest. “John, I do not want to die on these stairs. Do I need to carry you the rest of the way?”

John cleared his throat and pushed himself forward, “No. I’m good.” He resumed climbing the stairs and Stamford breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at the landing with John’s door. 

The landing was small, and Stamford had to press up against John to unlock the door, he pushed John into the tiny flat and shut the door behind them. “Alright, go clean your teeth.” He shoved John in the direction of the loo and went in search of a bin that he could put next to John’s bed. He’d looked through all the cupboards under the sink and come up empty. “John have you got a bin?” Stamford turned back to the door to the hall. 

John was leaning in the passageway in his best “I’m too drunk to stand upright so I shall lean seductively against the wall” pose. Mike allowed himself a moment of shock, followed by a brief appreciative sweep of eyes over John’s naked body.

“John, why are you naked?”

“I saw that look, I’m not that drunk. I can still tell you like the look of me.”

“John, we’ve been over this, I’m out of your league mate.” Stamford struggled to maintain eye contact.

John pushed off the wall and took two fairly steady steps towards Mike. “A pity fuck then?” John licked his lips and Mike had no choice but to lower his gaze to watch his tongue travel across his lips.

“You are a bad man John Watson. And if you remember this in the morning you can ask me that again. Now to bed with you.” Mike took hold of John’s shoulders, spun him around and marched him down the hall into his bedroom. John grumbled until Mike pushed him down onto the bed, arranging him in something vaguely resembling the recovery position. He smirked, John had passed out as soon as he’d hit the bed. Mike was pretty sure he wouldn’t remember propositioning him in the morning. Which was a pity, Mike wouldn’t mention it unless John did. Mike smiled at his friend as he pulled the blanket over him. 

“Nothing at all wrong with my memory, and you do have a fine arse my friend.”

He went back into the kitchen, poured John a glass of water and left it on the nightstand before dropping John’s keys next to it and letting himself out.

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I have a love of all the tiny ships. Are they called row boats? Only enough room for the characters. 
> 
> I don't know where this came from honestly. Mike makes that comment about "getting fat" and John remembers him. I also really love that Mike makes John look tall in that scene.


End file.
